


Untitled Drabble: or how a Sneeze hurt Arthur's arse

by ladyprydian



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-28
Updated: 2015-08-28
Packaged: 2018-04-17 18:17:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4676558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyprydian/pseuds/ladyprydian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Lying in bed, foreheads pressed together, just gazing into each other’s eyes and taking it all in. Everything is silent.</i>
</p><p> </p><p><i>And then Person A suddenly sneezes and scares Person B so badly that they fall out of bed.</i><br/>- <a href="http://qualityreblogs.tumblr.com/post/125463287421/imagine-your-otp">qualityreblogs</a></p><p>Note: Please do not redistribute my fanfiction on other archives or sites without my express permission. Thank you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Untitled Drabble: or how a Sneeze hurt Arthur's arse

**Author's Note:**

> The summary is the prompt which can be see from it's original tumblr source [here](http://qualityreblogs.tumblr.com/post/125463287421/imagine-your-otp).
> 
> My tumblr post to the prompt is [here](http://ladyprydian.tumblr.com/post/127813357518/imagine-your-otp) archiving so I don't lose it. 
> 
> No beta, all mistakes are mine.

It was the early morning. The sun was coming in through the gossamer curtains, warming Arthur’s back.

He was comfortable, more than comfortable. The bed was a massive California King but he and Eames were twined together on one side. Legs tangled together, arms slung over each other’s waist, fingers on the other hand tangled together. Foreheads touching.

He could feel the pressure of Eames’s forehead against his own. A steady, solid point of contact.

It was quiet, some faint noise from traffic filtered through the open window as did the occasional bird song. But other than that they could hear nothing but the soft susurration of each other’s breathing. Arthur indulged in a moment of whimsy at the thought _“I bet I could hear his heart beat”_ filtered through his brain and then back out again, into the ether.

He said nothing, he didn’t move other than a slow blink which, when he opened his eyes again, he was staring directly into Eames. He couldn’t help but catalog the exact colour of them, a darkish blue around the edge of the iris that faded into a green at the pupil. Flecks of hazel here and there which helped to give Eames’s eyes their changeable quality.

Sometimes blue, sometimes grey, sometimes green. So different from the sold brown of his own.

He was captivated by Eames’s eye colour silently cataloging each slightly different fleck of pigmentation when Eames closed his eyes and sneezed.

If there was a World Championship for Loudest Sneeze, Eames would win hands down. He could never contain his sneezes (and they had more than once lead to a wild chase across a city). They were massive explosions of noise, spit and mucus, coming from the bottom of his lungs and shaking the man’s entire frame. (Arthur had once seen Eames sneeze so hard he stepped out of his shoes. Granted the shoes were already untied and rather loose.)

Still though, it was no wonder that the force of Eames’s sneeze caused Arthur to jerk back and topple off the bed, arse first onto the hardwood floor.

“Ow” muttered Arthur from the floor.

“Darling?” Eames sniffed, “where did you go?” He muttered, his voice raspy from disuse and the force of the sneeze.

“Here,” Arthur said sticking one arm in the air. “You sneezed all over me, asshole.”

“Poor darling,” Eames giggled grabbing Arthur’s hand, but other than that, didn’t move an inch.

Arthur grumbled and groaned as he got back into bed. More or less spilling himself back down onto the sheets. Not once letting go of Eames’s hand.

“You made me fall on my ass” he groused.

“Mmm, shall I check you for damage?” Eames asked with a teasing tone, “roll over and let me check your bum for bruises.” One of his hands slid down Arthur’s back to his bum and started kneading it.

“No,” Arthur muttered, wiggling closer to Eames. “I think it’s fine, but if you make me sick with that sneeze, I’ll kill you dead.”

“Threat acknowledged,” Eames said gently touching their foreheads together again.


End file.
